


Burn the Breeze

by W4nderingStar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bounty Hunter Gabe, Cowboy AU, Is this historically accurate?, M/M, Sheriff Jack, nope - Freeform, other characters need cowboy content!!, the canon cowboy has enough content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26327863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W4nderingStar/pseuds/W4nderingStar
Summary: Gabriel has a pair of rustlers and a plan to get paid.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 55
Kudos: 116





	1. A Lick And A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> WESTERN SLANG & PHRASES  
> Burn the Breeze ~ ride full speed  
> A lick and a promise ~ to do haphazardly. "He just gave it a lick and a promise."
> 
> Is this historically accurate? That's a big NOPE. @gemsheldrake was posting cowboy things and I need more of her cowboy works. LOOK AT THEM AND SWOON. https://twitter.com/gemsheldrake/status/1080561769507106817

**A Lick And A Promise**

Bloomington, Indiana was a dot on the map and little more. The county seemed to stretch on forever, but the town itself was a smattering of buildings. Close enough to a rail station to stay afloat, but far enough that the town had never boomed. It just… stayed alive. Gabe snorted. Much like himself. 

But they had dozens of farms and ranches. Which meant money. Money someone would pay for a couple of cattle rustlers caught in the act. And if the rumor mill was to be believed, the Sheriff of Bloomington was the youngest son of one of the farmers in the area. With a little pressure applied, Gabe could get a prime rate for his two pieces of merchandise. 

The sleepy little town and its sleepy little folk hardly paid him—and the two rustlers tied to their own horses—any mind. He tipped his hat to the ladies that passed him. 

“Lookin’ for the sheriff, stranger?” said a young girl’s voice. 

Gabe reined Blackwatch to a halt and glanced down to his left. A girl, maybe twelve— how the hell did anyone know how old a kid was, did they check their teeth like a horse? — leaned against a hitching post. She chewed on a stalk of wheat and eyed him up and down in a way that reminded Gabe of being sized up by a military man. Though, no military man he’d met wore a flower print sundress tied around the waist with a red ribbon. She spat in the dirt, never breaking eye contact. 

“I said, you lookin’ for the sheriff?” She hooked a lock of her short, black hair behind an ear, apparently uncaring about the streak of grime her fingers smudged into her temple. 

Her gumption made his lips quirk into a grin. “Yes, Ma’am, I am.” 

  
She frowned, the stalk of wheat rolling to the other side of her mouth. With a quick glance back at the rustlers, she shrugged. “Ain’t gonna get much for the O’Donner boys. They’re about as inept as a gelding at a stud farm.” 

“Hey!” One of the rustlers protested. “We ain’t in-epped.” 

The girl rolled her eyes. “Second time this month you’ve been brought in.” 

“The sheriff have a habit of not hanging rustlers?” Gabe asked. 

“‘Ain’t no reason to hang children,’ he says.” She pushed herself off the hitching post and started walking. “His office is this way.” She strutted through the street like she owned the place, battered boots kicking up dust. 

Gabe pressed his heels to Blackwatch’s sides. The gelding plodded after the girl, the O’Donner boys’ horses following behind. The girl hooked a right and hopped up a short set of stairs into one of the buildings. Before Gabe reached it, the girl was bounding back out, a woman behind her. 

“Here he is, Mama.”

“That’s close enough.” 

Gabe pulled Blackwatch up short. The woman was a mirror image of the girl. Black hair, brown skin, military bearing. She wore a broken-in white shirt, brown pants with suspenders, and a bandolier slung over one shoulder. She held a gun nearly as long as Gabe was tall. It rested in her hands with ease that only came from many years of use. Her finger tapped the trigger guard, closest reassurance Gabe would get that she didn’t intend to shoot him. 

“What’s your business, stranger?” 

Gabe pulled his hat off. “Afternoon, Ma’am.” 

“I don’t have time for platitudes. State your business.” 

Well all right then. He put his hat back on. “Looking for the sheriff,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Caught a couple of rustlers holed up in a box canyon several miles south. Thought he’d want to know.” 

“O’Donner’s boys,” the woman scoffed. 

“Mrs. Amari, ma’am,” both chimed in unison. 

She nodded at the girl. “Fareeha, get them back to their mother to deal with.” 

“Happy to oblige,” Gabe said. “Soon as I’m paid.” 

“You want to be paid for hog tying a couple of teens to their ponies?”

“They stole about thirty head of steer. I’ve had Barons want men dead for less.” 

“No Barons here,” she said. “They’re a nuisance. The scare you give them is punishment enough.”

“All the same, I’ll speak with the sheriff now.” 

“Well then, that’d be me.” 

Gabe whipped around as the owner of the new voice sauntered out of the alleyway between the Sheriff’s office and the next building. Gabe was expecting a kid not much older than the boys he’d caught. Instead, a man stood before him. 

From the tips of his dusty boots to the top of his blond head, he was every inch as tall as Gabe. Scruff covered his chin and cheeks, not enough to hide the youthful roundness to his face. Maybe twenty, twenty five. His chest was bigger than Gabe’s, hips more narrow, with longer legs. And muscles. Lord, so many muscles that only came from working a farm. The blue shirt stretched across that broad chest fit him nicely, and with the sleeves pushed up, showing off his forearms…. 

Gabe sat back in the saddle. Apparently it wasn’t the giant Winchester resting over the man’s shoulder Gabe should be most worried about. Everything about the man was lethal. The sheriff walked right by him without so much as a glance. He jogged up the stairs— firm ass bouncing in those tight black pants— to the office. 

“Ana, I’ll take it from here.”

“But, Jack—” she began. 

Jack smiled— Lord Almighty, it was like the sun bursting through the clouds when he smiled— and pat her shoulder. 

“I can handle payin’ the man for his trouble. You’ve got more important things to do.” He turned and nodded to the girl— Fareeha. “Go on, Deputy. Cut them boys loose and chase ‘em back home.” 

Fareeha scowled at Gabe. “He won’t let me.” 

Gabe clutched the horses’ leads as a gaze bluer than the sky turned his way and damn near punched him right out of the saddle. Gabe clenched his teeth and fought off the urge to look away. 

It was just another sheriff. That’s all Jack— all the man was.

Jack smiled at him. “Well now, stranger. I’m sure you don’t mind turning your merch over to my deputy while you come inside.” 

Oh yes. Gabe would love to come inside the man. And outside of him. Turn around and have Jack come inside of him. “Am I gettin’ paid?” 

“Of course.” Jack slid the rifle off his shoulder and tucked it under his arm, showing him it was safe. 

Gabe tossed the leads to the girl. Fareeha caught them and led the horses away. 

“Your mama’s gonna be pissed,” she sing-sang. 

“Language!” Ana snapped. 

Gabe dismounted, tying Blackwatch’s reins in a loose knot. His hands didn’t shake, but it felt like they were. The sheriff was throwing him off, messing with his head. The dry mouth was from days on the road and the heat in his cheeks was sunburn, nothing more. Carefully, he mounted the steps. Ana gave him a look over with the same intensity her daughter had. 

She didn’t say anything as he came to a stop. She exchanged a look with Jack. 

“Come on in,” Jack said, pushing open the door. 

Gabe jammed his thumbs into his belt loops. “After you, Sheriff.” 

“All right.” Jack went in, rifle still tucked under his arm. 

The woman pointed at her eyes, then at Gabe. He tipped his hat to her and followed the Sheriff inside. 

The office was small. Just a couple of cells, desks, and chairs. Jack leaned his rifle against the wall as he took a seat behind one desk. In easy reach, but far enough away to put Gabe a little more at ease. 

“Have a seat.”

“Been riding for a week. I’ll stand.” 

Jack pulled a bottle from a drawer in the desk and a pair of tin camping cups. He uncorked the top and poured a healthy amount of whiskey into one and pushed it toward Gabe. 

“Mighty kind.” Gabe took it and sipped, letting it get some moisture back into his mouth. 

Jack poured himself a splash and put the bottle away. “I don’t know what the big cities pay you, but we’re a tiny town. I can give you a few dollars for bringing the boys in.” 

Gabe griminced, and not because the dirt in his mouth made the whiskey taste like shit. “That ain’t gonna do.” 

Jack shrugged and leaned back in his chair, tipping it back on two legs. “I do appreciate you givin’ those troublemakers a scare I couldn’t, but they’re not rustlers. They’re boys playing at being men.” 

“Playing a villian usually leads to being one,” Gabe said. 

“Know from experience?” 

The question made Gabe pause. Was he a villian? “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“None of my business unless you make it mine.” 

“My business is bounty huntin’. Everyone’s gotta make a livin’.” 

“Bounty hunters go after people with bounties on them. They don’t stumble upon them and hope someone’s willing to pay.” Those bright-blue eyes that pierced through him as sure as a bullet looked downright frosty now. “Nobody’s got a reward out for the O’Donner boys.” 

The corner of Gabe’s eye twitched. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, Sheriff.” 

“Which is why you get a poster for a mark, so you know you’re going after the right person you want the money for.” 

Well, this wasn’t what Gabe expected at all. “Done a little hunting yourself, Sheriff?” 

Jack set the chair back down on all four legs. “This is what I’ll do for you.” He took a sip of whiskey. “I’ll give you the few dollars out of my pocket. It’s the best I can do.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Gabe growled. “After everything I’ve done—”

“You did without knowing if there was a reward. That's on you.”

“I’m running low on supplies. Can’t keep hunting without the money to pay for what I need.” 

“You’ll find the general store’s prices are fair.” 

“You’ll find my empty pockets don’t see those prices in the same light.” It was always faster to kill rustlers and then haggle over the reward. Why a little part of him still felt that killing should be a last resort, he didn’t know. All it did was get him screwed. “If the shopkeep’s name ends in O’Donner, think he’ll give me a deal for the two bullets still in my gun and not in his boys’ backs?” 

Jack’s jaw clenched for a moment. “I’ll talk to the shopkeep. See what I can do. Ain’t going to be much, but it’ll be something.” 

“Suppose that's the thanks I get for solving other people's problems humanely.” 

He took a step toward the door.

“I’ll make sure you’ve got a room at our inn. You can get washed up and rested. On me. Consider it my thanks for doing the right thing.” 

Gabe was a proud man, he wanted to refuse. But he wasn't an idiot. Swallowing that pride, Gabe tipped his hat. “You’re a generous man, Sheriff. I’ll see to my horse, then inquire about my room.” He headed for the door, hand on the latch.

“Don’t cause any trouble,” Jack warned. 

Gabe grinned. “Wouldn't dream of it, Sheriff.” 


	2. A Hog-Killin' Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WESTERN SLANG & PHRASES  
> Burn the Breeze ~ ride full speed  
> A Hog-Killin' Time ~ a real good time
> 
> Is this historically accurate? That's a big NOPE. @gemsheldrake was posting cowboy things and I need more of her cowboy works. LOOK AT THEM AND SWOON. https://twitter.com/gemsheldrake/status/1080561769507106817

**A Hog-Killin' Time**

Blackwatch put his ears back and turned, quick as lighting, teeth bared. Gabe smacked the gelding’s nose. Blackwatch snorted, shook his head and went back to grumpily eating his hay. 

“I know half-crazy cavalry stallions with better temperaments than you,” Gabe muttered, brushing over the sore spot on the black hide. 

Blackwatch stamped a hoof on the straw and kept eating, one ear cocked Gabe’s direction. 

“Just because you’re faster than a bat outta hell, don’t think that’ll keep me from selling you for dog feed.” 

The gelding shook his head, long mane flying. Gabe swatted the blanket of white spots on the horse’s rump. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’d never sell you.” He checked the gelding’s feet for stones, then ran a hand over his legs. Cool as a winter afternoon. “All right, ya bastard. You’re on your own for a while.” 

Hefting the saddlebags, Gabe left the livery stable— chased out of the stall by a set of grateful teeth attached to a thankful gelding— and headed toward the inn. It wasn’t much to speak of, but there were walls and a roof, that’s all he cared about. He pushed open the door. 

The entire bottom floor was open, with a dance floor and scattered tables. Along the back wall was a bar. Well, well, well, guess Bloomington wasn’t so bad after all. Behind the bar, restocking the shelves, was a mountain in the form of a man. 

He was seven feet tall, and nearly as broad. A mane of golden hair spilled down to his shoulders. He pulled a rag out of his gray apron pocket and dusted off part of the shelf before setting up a trio of bottles. He turned, looked up, and beamed. 

“Ah! Welcome, welcome!” the giant boomed, words heavy with a German accent. “Welcome to The Lionheart! Are you here for a room, or a meal?” 

“Both,” Gabe said, leaning against the bar. “Sheriff should have made accommodations for me.”

“Ah! So you’re the mysterious bounty hunter.” He extended his hand that was only slightly smaller than a fully grown bear’s paw. “Reinhardt Wilhelm, at your service.” 

“Gabriel Reyes.” He took the man’s hand and shook. 

The German mountain-man nearly shattered Gabe’s fingers in his crushing grip. “Wonderful to meet you! You must tell me all your stories, and I shall tell you mine!” 

“Not staying that long,” Gabe said through gritted teeth as he withdrew his wounded hand. “Wanta wash the road off me and get some sleep.” 

Reinhardt tsked and wagged a finger at him. “Nonsense! Tonight we are dancing! It’s a party!” 

“I don’t dance,” Gabe said. “Just point me in the direction of the bath and I’ll stay out of the way.” 

“Come now, Gabriel. We’ll have a band and drinks.” He laughed. “Trust me, you won’t be able to sleep until late anyways, may as well join in the fun!” 

Great. “Thank you kindly. I’ll… see about joining in. Now, about that room and bath.” 

“Right!” Reinhardt waved a finger at him. “You’re lucky we don’t have many staying with us right now. If you’d come at cattle drive time, ha, my friend you would be sleeping in the stables if you were lucky enough to find any space!” 

He bent down under the bar. After a second, he popped back up and placed a large key on the polished wood. 

“Room two. Second floor, go to the right. The bath is at the end of the hall. There’s two tubs with a screen between. Leave your clothes outside the door and Ingrid will have them washed and put in your room.” 

Gabe scooped up the key and dipped his hat. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll be seeing you tonight!” 

Gabe waved over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs. They creaked softly under his boots, but the floorboards on the second story were silent. He let himself into room two. There was a bed, a tiny side table and oil lamp, and a rocking chair in the corner. The mattress looked like it would feel like heaven on his poor back.

Taking off his duster, he hung it on the back of the rocking chair. The saddle bags got dumped on the floor and slid under the bed. His hat ended up on the folded blanket at the foot of the bed. He kicked out of his boots and left them by the door. 

As promised, at the end of the hall was the bath. Gabe filled one of the tubs with water and added some of the powdered soap from the provided can. Carefully, he undressed, folding his clothes neatly and leaving them outside the door. Then, he eased himself into the water. 

“ _ Fuuuck _ ,” he moaned. 

The water was lukewarm, but it felt like heaven against his skin. He scrubbed at his limbs and body, getting the weeks of grit and sweat out. He soaped his hair, running his fingers through it until the tangles were out. 

Once he was properly clean, he relaxed, leaning back against the wall of the tub with his elbows on the rim. Even if his hunt was a bust, at least he got a bath out of it. He closed his eyes and relaxed. 

  
  


Banging startled him awake. Gabe sat bolt upright, cold water sloshing over the rim of the tub. As consciousness returned to him— and the fear of an unknown attacker faded— the banging resolved itself into the rhythmical beat of a tamborine. Shaking his head, Gabe came back to himself. There were fiddles too, and the tinny thrumming of a washboard. The music floated up through the floorboards, radiating around the bath, bouncing off the walls. 

Reinhardt had been right, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep with that racket going on. He rubbed his face with shriveled fingers. His beard scratched at his palms. He needed to handle that before going downstairs. It was one thing to be intimidating. It was another to look like a half-crazed wild man. 

He eased himself out of the tub. On the floor by the door was a towel. He grabbed it, drying off and then tying it around his waist. Now, time to get the beard under control. He made his way to the little mirror and bason. He lathered the shaving foam on his cheeks and chin. The straight razor made quick work of the extra beard. The music picked up as time went on, getting more rowdy. 

Gabe rinsed his face and checked his work in the mirror. Without the beard, his cheek scars were more prominent. Oh well. It was better he had a carved up face than look like he lived in the woods. 

Satisfied that was as good as he was going to get, Gabe went to the door and checked for his clothes. They were gone, but in their place was a folded pair of pants and a freshly laundered white shirt. He pulled them inside and dressed. 

Ingrid must be a master seamstress because the clothes fit. The pants were the perfect length, the wasit wasn’t even an inch too big. The inseam might be snug, but he didn’t fault the woman for that. He pulled the shirt on, buttoning it down. It was a hell of a lot nicer than he was used to. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed it was much too nice for the likes of him. But, it was a party after all. 

No cufflinks. Gabe folded back the cuffs. He almost wished he had something nice like cufflinks to put on in times like these. But that was useless on the road. Still… he glanced in the mirror one more time. It was nice to look handsome. Some handsome sheriff might even notice. 

Gabe opened the door. A wall of sound blasted him in the face. The fiddles sawed, the tambourine jingled, and a yell rang out “Swap partners!” A cheer went up, then the music went on. Gabe closed the door to the bathroom and went to the railing, looking down on the ground floor. 

Below him, the inn looked packed to the rafters. The dance floor was full of animated dancers, swinging, spinning, dipping like a flock of rowdy birds. Ladies in brightly colored dresses swirled around the dance floor, accompanied by men in clothes as nice looking as Gabe’s borrowed ones. 

They looked comfortable and at ease. But that would change when Gabe walked in. It happened everywhere. Strangers meant trouble. He was exposed like this, just a shirt and pants. What was he thinking? He headed for his room and retrieved his dark duster. It wasn’t much in the way of protection, but it hid a knife or two. At least he wouldn’t be naked if someone didn’t want him here. 

“Food, drink, bed,” he muttered to himself as he pulled on his boots. “Ten minutes, no more.” Plan in place, he took a deep breath. Stick to the plan. That’s all he had to do. 

Gabe hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and sauntered toward the stairs. The shirt had too much starch in it. It was stiff against his throat. Tugging at the collar, he hit the ground floor. 

The four man band was in full swing, fiddles sawing away at a jaunty tune that grated on Gabe’s nerves even more now that he was closer.

Dozens of folks sat at the tables eating roasted beef loin. There were bloody-red sausages, steaming loaves of sourdough bread, and cooked onions. Gabe’s empty stomach growled. First thing, a drink. Then however much food he could pile on a plate. 

“Gabriel my friend!” The booming voice pulled Gabe up short.

He turned toward the bar. It was packed with ladies without dance partners. Reinhardt was in the center of the henhouse, mixing drinks and taking their money. He waved Gabe over with a beaming smile. 

“Come, come! Let me get you something to get you in a dancing mood!” 

That wasn’t going to happen, but he welcomed the giant to try find some combination of spirits that would change his mind. He walked over, boot heels thumping on the wooden floor to the beat of the tambourine. 

A dozen pairs of eyes watched him approach. Fans snapped out, covering red-painted lips. Suddenly, Reinhardt’s hens turned into a pack of hungry wolves and Gabe a hapless deer wandering into their lair. 

“Glad you could make it, Gabriel,” Reinhardt said. “Ladies, ladies! If you could be so kind as to allow the gentleman to get a drink.”

“He is a drink,” one of them said, her fan rapidly flapping back and forth. “A tall drink of water and Lord, am I parched.” 

Gabe’s lips twitched, but he couldn't bring himself to smile. “Ladies,” he greeted. 

“My, my,” said a red head, backing up to make a sliver of space for him. “When did you ride into town?” 

“This afternoon.” he said, sliding up to the bar.

“What will you have?” Reinhardt asked. 

“Whiskey.” The taste of the Sheriff’s had given him a thirst for it. “Neat.” 

“For business or pleasure?” asked a brunette, her dress neckline lower than the Mississippi in a drought. 

“Business,” Gabe said. 

Reinhardt set up a glass and poured a healthy dose of amber liquid into it. Gabe picked it up and took a sip. 

“What kind of business is that?” the redhead asked. 

“I’m a bounty hunter, ma’am.” Gabe said, leaning his back against the bar. 

The ladies “Oh’d” and “Ah’d”, fans flapping faster. 

“A bounty hunter! How exciting!”

“We haven’t had a bounty hunter in ages.”

“Reinhardt, didn’t you used to be a bounty hunter back in Germany?” 

He roared with laughter. “No,  _ Fräulein _ . I was a Crusader! One of the King’s royal guards.” He stroked his short beard, grinning. “Though I did do my fair share of hunting lawbreakers.” His gaze met Gabe’s. “How many men have you brought to justice, Gabriel?” 

“That depends on your definition of justice.” Gabe took a sip of whiskey, letting it slide over his tongue and down his throat. A lot of men out here deserved the justice of the noose, not justice that could be bought. 

“How many men have you captured?” Reinhardt pressed, clearing looking for a challenge. 

“All told in my thirty-odd years? Fifty something, give or take.” 

Reinhardt laughed, hand slapping the bar hard enough to rattle the drinks. “Only fifty? My friend, I had arrested fifty men when I was still a squire!” 

“He caught the O’Donner boys playin’ rustler with old man Morgan’s cows and turned them over to the sheriff,” came a familiar voice.

Gabe looked over his shoulder and found Fareeha scowling at him. The intensity of the look was somewhat muted when she was wearing a blue-velvet dress with white lace ruffles around the neck and buckled shoes on her white-stockinged feet. If it weren’t for the scowl, he’d think she was a little lady.

She marched up to the bar, elbowing her way between Gabe and an older matronly woman. “Where’s Brig?” Fareeha demanded of Reinhardt. 

“In the kitchen helping her mother,” he told her. “And your dress is almost as lovely as you are tonight, Miss. Amari.” 

Farheea curtsied. “Thank you.” 

“Why don’t you do me a favor and get Gabriel something to eat before you and Brigitte run off and get into mischief?” 

Fareeha lifted her chin. “We never get into mischief.” 

“And I am Frenchman!” Reinhardt laughed. He smiled at her and winked. “You could use a good alibi, correct?” 

Fareeha put her hands on her hips. “Not that I need an alibi—”

“But you were helping me the whole night,” Reinhardt said with another wink. 

Fareeha looked at Reinhardt for a moment, then over at Gabe. “Do you want beef or lamb?” 

“What’s better?” 

“Beef. Lambs are too cute to eat.” 

“Beef it is.” 

Fareeha turned and fled, rushing out of sight. 

Gabe turned back to Reinhardt. “She’s the deputy and your waiter?” 

“She’s a young lady of many talents,” Reinhardt said. “Just like her mother.” 

The gathered ladies shared knowing glances and rolled eyes. Well now. That was an interesting development. 

“Have you seen Ana at all?” Reinhardt asked. “She said she would make an appearance.” 

“I haven’t seen her all day,” a blonde lady said, sounding anything but concerned. 

“It’s been a week since I’ve seen her lugging around that rifle of hers,” the redhead said.

“She was at the sheriff’s office,” Gabe said. “This afternoon.” 

“Ah! I see!” Reinhardt said. “She probably just returned from a scouting trip.” He smiled. 

More interesting. Gabe took another sip of his whiskey. “She scouts often?” 

“Ana is a trapper and a trader,” Reinhardt said. “She gets the lay of the surrounding land and brings news back to Jack. She was the last one who found the O’Donner boys trying to make off with some cattle.” 

So, Jack wasn’t in a relationship with her. Good. Not that it meant anything more would happen, but it was still good information for— 

Someone tugged on his duster. “Hey! Food.” 

Gabe turned. Fareeha offered him a plate heaped with tender looking beef loin, roasted onions, both drizzled in broth. Fresh greens, a blood sausage, and pinto beans. Gabe’s stomach twisted and his mouth watered. 

“I cleared out a table for you in the front,” Fareeha said, jerking her head in the direction of the door. 

Gabe took the plate from her. “Appreciate it.” 

“I’ve been here the  _ whole _ night,” Fareeha stressed, gaze flicking from Gabe to Reinhardt, then back. “All. Night.”

“Of course  _ Fräulein.  _ The whole night.” 

Fareeha smiled. “Good.” She skipped off, to get into who knew what antics. 

“Ladies,” Gabe said, nodded. He scooped up his drink and beat a hasty retreat before anyone could stop him. 

The promised empty table was waiting for him. Gabe set his plate down and was barely in his seat before he was tucking in. The meat nearly fell off the bone it was so tender. It melted in his mouth. The onions and broth had the perfect amount crunch and savory flavor. The greens were crisp, the beans flavorful. He poked at the sausage, not sure if he was up to try the blood-red meat just yet.

The inn door opened. Gabe glanced over his shoulder. The fork full of beef stopped halfway to his mouth as he froze. 

Jack sauntered in like a black and silver prairie breeze. Gone were the dusty work clothes. Instead, he wore black jeans and a fitted black vest, eight silver buttons gleaming in the light. An empty holster was strapped to his thigh, barely visible under the spotless black town coat he wore. Pinned over his heart was a silver star. 

Gabe’s gaze kept traveling up, mouth watering for something other than food. The crisp, white shirt collar was kept in place by a plain black bolo tie. The stubble of the afternoon had vanished from his square jaw. Clean shaven, he looked even younger than Gabe had assumed. 

“Lord Almighty,” he hissed to himself. He’d never wanted a lawman before. Then again, no lawman had ever looked like  _ that _ before. 

Jack nodded to the patrons that greeted him as he walked to the bar. The ladies gave him the same hungry wolf treatment that they had with Gabe. Jack politely bantered with them, accepting a drink from Reinhardt. He looked good, elbow propped on the bar, hip out, boots looking like they should be knocking with Gabe’s upstairs. 

Jack said something to Reinhardt. The barkeep nodded, pointing at Gabe. Jack turned and caught sight of him. His smile melted away, expression becoming serious. 

Gabe would much rather have that smile aimed his way. He nodded. Jack said something to Reinhart, then left the bar. He walked toward Gabe, cutting through the crowd easily. Well, this should be interesting. What could he have to say? Jack stopped at Gabe’s table, a few tantalizing feet from him, whiskey in hand. 

“Evening, Sheriff,” Gabe said, setting down his fork. 

“Evenin’.”

Gabe arched an eyebrow when there was no more conversation forthcoming. Jack just scowled. Maybe he didn't take kindly to an outsider joining in the town’s festivities. No matter. Gabe didn’t need to be invited to admire the view. The way his arm muscles stretched the coat sleeves, or the large silver belt buckle holding up those very nice pants that looked too tight in the best way. Jack stuck his hand in his pocket and knocked back his whiskey in one go. 

“You like looking at me that much?” Gabe asked. 

The Sheriff’s blue gaze locked on him, pinning him to his seat. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” Jack said, gruff voice sliding along Gabe like a rough wool blanket, warm and cosy, but fighting him.

Gabe leaned back in his seat, legs stretched out. He folded his arms over his chest. “At the place you sent me to stay, you didn’t expect to see me?”

Jack went to take another drink, but found his glass empty. “Didn’t think you’d come down is all.” 

“And miss the food and drink? I’m not an idiot that passes up a free meal.”

“Mind if I sit?” 

What was this? Was the sheriff trying to intimidate him? “If you’re here to remind me not to cause trouble, you’re wasting your time. I’m going to enjoy the food, savor the whiskey, then head up to bed. No trouble for me.” 

“Can I sit or not?” 

Gabe shrugged. “It’s your town, Sheriff. Do whatever pleases you.”

Jack pulled out the extra chair and sat. “We didn’t get off on the best foot. I wanted to apologize.” 

“You didn’t shoot me. I’d say we got along just fine.” 

“Don’t suppose I could get you to lead me back to those animals so I can make sure they get to their proper owner.” 

“For a price.”

Jack frowned. “I’m afraid to ask.” 

“I’ll think of something fair,” Gabe said with a grin. He had no use for the animals even if he knew how to sell them or what the market rate was.

“Everything has a price for you, doesn’t it?” 

Gabe nodded and took a sip of his drink. “It’s the way of the world, Sheriff.” 

“Sheriff Morrison.” One of the townsfolk stopped at the table and offered Jack another drink. “How’s your father?” 

Jack accepted the drink with a smile that Gabe really wished was aimed his way. “Old John’s doing fine. Bitter about the rain, bitter about the lack of it, other than that, he’s in good spirits. What about you, Connor?” 

The two bantered back and forth about the weather, the state of the streets, dogs. Gabe pulled out the beat up pocket watch and checked the time. Ten minutes of country drivel was his limit. He slipped the pocket watch back and was about to excuse himself when the man said his goodbyes and walked off. 

Jack turned back to Gabe. 

“Don’t let me keep you, Sheriff,” he said, as if he had invited Jack over and was keeping him.

“Sorry. Haven’t seen Conner in a while. We had some catching up to do.” 

The man clearly had better places to be. What was his angle here? “What are you doing, Sheriff?”

“Excuse me?”

Gabe leaned in, putting his elbows on the table. “You’ve got your town to run, people to meet, what in the hell do you want with me? I’ve already promised I’d be a choir boy. You’ve done your duty.” 

Jack’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched for a moment. “Just tryin’ to be friendly. But if I’m not wanted.” He stood, knocking back the rest of his drink in one go again. “I’ll leave you to your night.”

With that, Jack turned on his heel and left, town coat covering that nice ass Gabe had admired earlier. A loss to be sure, but better to be safe. One wrong move and Gabe could find himself swinging for sodomy. He couldn’t just invite the man up to his room. If only. Before he could, he had to know. 

He sat back and watched Jack mingle with the party goers. A rancher looking fellow patted him on the shoulder. They spoke for a time before Jack moved on. Like a butterfly working his way through a field of flowers, Jack flitted from group to group, spending a few moments to catch up and speak before moving on. 

Gabe sipped his drink and tracked Jack across the room. A young lady in her Sunday finest approached Jack in the middle of a conversation. They exchanged a few quick words, then she took his hand and led him onto the dance floor. 

Gabe’s jaw clenched as Jack put his hand on her hip and her shoulder. The music went on and Jack led her though the steps. More people joined them on the dance floor, pairing off. More than a few hands also held drinks. 

The music called for a partner swap. Jack’s partner was picked up by another man, and he gained a new woman. They danced on until everyone swapped again. The drinks kept flowing as the music banged on. 

The residents were getting a little wild. A pair of ladies paired off and danced together, to the hoots and hollers of some. Their antics prompted half a dozen more ladies to join them. A couple young men, either too drunk or just liquored up enough decided to follow the ladies' example. They laughed as they danced around the floor to the amusement of everyone it seemed. 

The call for a switch came again. One of the two young men grabbed Jack and pulled him into a loose embrace. Jack laughed and took the lead, spinning the other man around before pulling him back. 

Gabe grinned. Jack was dancing with another man and looking like that fact didn’t bother him at all. In fact, he was smiling exceptionally wide at the man, eyes focused solely on him. None of the ladies got that same treatment. Maybe….

The music called for a partner change. Fareeha tapped the young man’s back. Jack laughed and offered the girl his hand. They carried on the dance, Jack leading a much smaller partner with ease. 

Fareeha was talking up a storm, clearly excited about something. Or maybe spinning her perfectly crafted alibi for her and her friend. Jack smiled at her with a warm look of older-brotherly affection. He nodded along, letting her chatter his ear off. That smile was entirely wasted on the girl. Gabe was far more deserving of Jack’s undivided attention. 

He could take it, make Jack…. No. Jack might be kind, but not submissive. He’d have to come to Gabe of his own free will. And what better way to get him to come around than to put out some bait for the man to sink his teeth into?

Gabe stood, smoothed down his shirt and put his duster back on. Slowly, he prowled toward the dance floor. No one seemed brave enough to challenge Fareeha’s hold over Jack as three more partner swaps went by. Well, her reign was about to come to an end. He took up a choice position, far away from Reinhardt, should he try to come to Fareeha’s aid, and close to the band so there was no easy escape. 

They came closer and closer, Jack spinning her around and around while the girl laughed. Gabe waited until Jack’s back was to him before springing. He stepped into their path, Fareeha nearly crashing into him.

“What in the— ” She looked up at him, blinking, caught off guard.

“Mind if I cut in, ma’am?” he asked. 

Jack turned, shock replacing his smile. “I—” He looked at Fareeha, letting go of her hands. “I don’t think that’s a good idea unless you ask her mother.”

Gabe pounced. Grabbing Jack, he put one hand on his waist, the other laced their fingers together. He spun Jack away, winking back at an open mouthed Fareeha. “Wasn’t talking about the girl,” he said, smug satisfaction bleeding into his words. 

Jack stumbled over his own feet, blue eyes wide as Gabe led them around the dance floor. There was a light hint of cologne, but under it, Gabe could smell the lingering scent of horse and hay, with just a touch of gunpowder. It made Gabe’s mouth water more than the food had. 

“Just thought of a price,” Gabe said, spinning them around. 

Jack stepped on Gabe’s boots, completely off his rhythm. “Excuse me?”

“A price you can pay for me helping you with those cattle.” 

“Cattle?” A look of realization came over him, which was quickly replaced with deep skepticism. “Dare I even ask how steep it will be?” 

“It’s perfectly reasonable,” Gabe said, matter of factly. “I want you to dance with me awhile.” 

Jack’s jaw dropped and those pretty eyes blinked. He had entirely too long of eyelashes for a sheriff. They were downright pretty. He didn’t even protest, just stared and followed Gabe’s lead around the dance floor. 

“What’s the matter, Sheriff?” Gabe asked. “Cat got your tongue?” 

“Just— I wasn’t expecting you—” 

“To cut in?”

“To want to dance,” Jack corrected. 

“I’m a man of many talents, Sheriff. Think you’ll be suprised by a lot of things about me.” 

Jack seemed to get his feet to cooperate with him again. His hand tightened its grip on Gabe’s shoulder. “You make a habit of dancing with other men?” 

Ah, what a loaded question. Gabe smiled, happy for the opportunity to be coy. “You didn’t seem to mind, why should I?” 

“Not all strangers take kindly to our town’s quirks.” 

Gabe slid his hand back, under the short coat to press his palm against the small of the Sheriff’s back. Jack’s mouth snapped closed and his gaze bored into Gabe’s. Since he wasn’t punched in the face— and judging by crimson flush to the pale cheeks— Gabe pulled them closer, hand drifting lower until it cupped that fine ass that had teased him all night. 

“I take more kindly to it than you might think,” Gabe said in a lowered voice, so no one would hear him over the band. 

Jack’s nostrils flared, eyes darting back and forth, searching Gabe’s face. He only smiled, it was nothing but the truth. He was partial to dancing with men. Blond, young men, in black vests. And a deep voice never hurt.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’d say my price is most reasonable. But if you’d rather see about having those idiot boys take you to them I can go.” 

Jack’s hand squeezed Gabe’s to the point of being painful. “Dancing. That’s all you want?” 

“That’s all I’m asking for.” He smiled, half closing his eyes and trying his best to be relaxed. “But I think if you find yourself in room two once the party’s over, you’ll find yourself in very… welcoming company.” 

Jack stumbled, mouth somehow dropping even wider in shock. It was a good look on him, Gabe would like to see that open mouth in other, more intimate circumstances. The blue eyes smoldered, and Jack’s teeth ran over his lower lip. Gabe didn’t press, but he could see Jack thinking it over, like the invitation was a rock tossed into the still pond of his life, the ripples upsetting his world. 

“I’m heading home after this,” Jack growled, hands gripping Gabe so tight they were going to leave bruises. “I have work to do in the morning and it’s late enough as it is.” 

But his gaze darted to the stairs for the briefest of moments. 

“I’m a light sleeper,” Gabe said. “If you change your mind—”

“Won’t happen,” Jack snapped. “If I wanted something like that— which I don’t— I’d want someone for more than a night.” 

“Doesn’t have to be a single night.” 

“Not like that,” Jack growled, sending shivers down Gabe’s spine. “I’m not that kind of man.” 

Ah. The commitment type. Gabe should have known Jack would be one of those. But Gabe had the scent now. All he had to do was run his query to ground. 

“Well, you didn’t put an end date on your hospitality here at the inn,” Gabe said, completely nonchalant. “Maybe I’ll stay awhile.” 

Jack’s face paled under the red of his cheeks, but his eyes smoldered. Oh yes, Gabe would be staying a while indeed. He reluctantly let go of Jack’s hand and back, stepping away. 

“Thank you for the dance, Sheriff. I’ll be heading off now. But I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow.” Jack said it in a way that Gabe couldn’t tell if it was a statement, or a question. 

“To round up those cattle.” He winked. “Unless you want to see me sooner.” 

Jack said nothing. Just stared at him like he was going to either take a swing at him, or take a bite out of him. Gabe gave him a small bow before turning on his heel and leaving him on the dance floor. 

He threaded his way through the remaining people, most looking too tired or too drunk to stay much longer. Gabe ascended the stairs, pointedly not looking over his shoulder until he hit the second floor. Only then did he pause, wait a beat, then look over his shoulder. 

Jack was a dark, unmoving streak amongst the colors of the inn and the still swirling music. His gaze was riveted to Gabe like a railroad spike. With one last smile to the sheriff, Gabe turned and went into his room, not locking the door behind him. A late night visitor was a long shot, but Gabe could dream. 

Bounties could wait awhile. He had something much more rewarding that needed to be pursued. 

No matter how long it took. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point in time their MIGHT be a chapter 3. I've just been so tired and un-inspired lately that forcing it would do the boys dirty and be no fun to read. One day... one day..... If anyone has some inspiration to spare, please! I'll take anything at this point!


End file.
